Many of my friends received a mass email from me this summer. I was asking the question, “Did you send me an unsigned postcard from London?” I did research on the validity of the postmark and stamp, tried to rack my brain to recognize the handwriting, and talked about it until I was blue in the face.
No one ever fessed to sending the mysterious postcard from London. I have it on my nightstand in London, right this moment, behind a small picture of St. Francis and St. Claire. After the fact, it seemed to be a sign.
Last night, I went to the Jefferson Tap to a Young Alumni Event for Millikin University. I was chatting with Jason Logue, class of 2001, about my new life and all the people I don’t keep in touch with from Millikin. We were talking about the inverse relationship between activity on campus and lasting friendships. I have very few lasting friendships from college, partly because I so involved that I had tons of very shallow relationships–that seemed very deep at the time. We were talking about Rachel Stuckey, a mutual friend that lives in Toronto, who still includes me on mass emails from time to time.
Not five minutes later, she walks in.
The first words out of her mouth, “Oh my god! Leah! I sent you the postcard!”
“What?” I said, “You sent the postcard? Why didn’t you ever tell me? Where you on the email? Did you read my blog?”
“I got the email and was writing a response when the power went out. I was in Paris during the heatwave. Anyway, I lost the email and then forgot to write again.”
“Do you understand that I chalked it up to being a sign from god, because no one ever fessed up to sending it? Do you know that it is on my nightstand in London right now? I can’t beleive it was you!”
“I was staying at a hostel and the light was bad and I forgot to sign all of my postcards. I didn’t sign Alison’s either.”